


Teaser Excerpt from "The Space Between: Hillary's Struggle"

by Fortheloveofhillary



Category: HIllary Clinton /Billary Fan Fic
Genre: Graphic illness depicted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 15:15:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19153594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fortheloveofhillary/pseuds/Fortheloveofhillary
Summary: Chuck comes to Hillary's rescue...





	Teaser Excerpt from "The Space Between: Hillary's Struggle"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soraya13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soraya13/gifts), [purplelacemoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplelacemoon/gifts), [JuniperX](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuniperX/gifts).



> Hey everyone. Well, after an unfortunate and accidental deletion of at least two chapters, I cried my eyeballs out...Then I channeled my inner Hillary and picked myself up and begin again. Always get back up, right!? Anyway am now trying to work on rebuilding what was lost in the very little free time I have.. My frustration level with the accident is through the roof but all I can do is move forward. Anyway, I know so many of you have been waiting forever for an update on this story. Much of the chapter I had planned to release to continue where this leaves off is gone. So, I am releasing small teaser excerpt that will hopefully get your attention and bring you back to the drama around this couple. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. I WILL warn you that it does graphically depict illness after a drunken binge, so if you're super queasy maybe sit it out- but it WILL be in the upcoming chapters later, so... Enjoy and I'll get to the rest asap. Thanks for your patience everyone.

6:30 am

Hilton Hotel

Rm #424

New York, NY

          Never in her life had a bathroom seemed so far away. Hillary had to get there but her head felt nailed through the pillow all the way to the floor. Summoning all the strength she had, she struggled to free herself of the blankets and get out of bed.  In her unfortunate condition, however, she fell forward to her hands and knees as soon as her feet hit the floor. She had three immediate and interrelated problems. She needed to pee, she needed to puke, and the bathroom was too far away to accommodate either need. She looked around her immediate space and located a bedside waste pail. She grabbed it just in time to catch the contents of the first eruption. The bitter, rotten-smelling contents rolled over her tongue and splattered into the bottom of the receptacle. A few quick breaths and then another heave seized her body, adding more toxic fluid to the collecting pool. She choked and coughed, accidentally inhaling a drop or two which triggered a coughing fit. Searing pain radiated around her cranium like fire as a cold sweat broke out from head to toe. Her poisoned body trembled badly as she fought to keep herself propped on hands and knees for the brief moments that she needed to. Within moments her cramping stomach poised to punish her again. As her head again came over the pail, she suddenly felt her hair lift away from her face. As her body purged itself yet again, she felt another sensation. The soothing cool of a damp washcloth moved across her cheek, over her forehead, and down the other side before finally wiping it gently across her lips and the corners of her mouth.

She moaned and uttered something unintelligible as she felt her body begin to lift from the floor.

“Jesus, Hill” a familiar voice said softly. “You’ve really done a number on yourself.”

Another wave of nausea plagued her as her body was maneuvered. She felt akin to a limp corpse being tossed around in a rough sea. With what felt like herculean effort, she opened her burning, bloodshot eyes to see a blurry vision of the man she loved looking over her with concerned dismay. “Look you’re wet and you need a shower. Just try to sit up in the corner and we’ll get you cleaned up.”

She groaned with the slightest nod of agreement. Speaking required way more effort than she was capable of at the moment- not that she could form much of a coherent thought to begin with.

For what seemed to her like an eternity, she drifted in and out of consciousness, first being vaguely aware of lights. There was the sudden rush of water hitting her body, a stream flowing over her head. Fragments of sentences delivered in a quiet and patient tone. ‘ _Move your arm… Hill, Hillary…Okay, put your head down…Can you hear me?_ ’ Sometime later she felt the  sensation of a garment being pulled over her head with the soft scent of fabric softener filling her nostrils. It was pleasant for a moment despite the fact that it turned her already sick stomach. And then there was nothing.

Chuck finished cleaning up the bathroom and then made his way back to the bed where she was passed out cold but breathing. The vomiting had ceased- at least for now. He gathered the pail near the bed, dumped the contents in the toilet, and rinsed it.  He returned it to the bedside before gathering her soiled pajamas off of the bathroom floor for a thorough rinse in the shower. Once finished with the rinse, he wrung them out and hung them up on the rod to dry. He thought to send them out to laundry but thought it might stir suspicion. As he left the bathroom and switched off the light, he stopped again to look at her. He approached the bed again and tucked the comforter in around her. She didn’t move. Then, as if compelled, he leaned over and kissed her forehead. “I love you, woman.” he murmured with a weary sigh. “Even if you were an ass to me.”

Exhausted and slightly nauseous now himself, he made his way across the room to the sofa and plopped himself onto it. He was glad she’d found the waste pail he’d left next to the bed as a “just in case” item. As it turned out, thinking ahead had saved him a lot of cleaning. When he’d come back several hours ago, it had occurred to him to let her sleep it off at the table where she’d passed out. The part of him that was hurt and angry wanted her to deal to suffer the consequence. It would serve her right after the way she spoke to him. But seeing the woman he loved slouched over a table, vulnerable and without agency was more than his heart or conscience could bear. Besides, he was not going to have anyone else find her like this. Such an event would be humiliating to her personally- and it could devastate her career beyond repair. That would never happen on his watch.

Grabbing pillow and wedging it between head and the armrest of the sofa, he took a deep breath and let it out. Then again, doing his best to allow the upsetting events of the evening to fade. He forced himself to remember instead every good memory they’d made up to now. Her laughter, her smile, her eyes full of love and adoration. He zeroed in on the night he’d surprised her in the beginning- how ethereally beautiful she’d been. The look in her eyes as they danced together had been burned into his memory, the vision as fresh and crisp as ever. Swaying effortlessly with her in his arms, he’d been lost in those angel eyes, floating on a cloud…And, now, as his body surrendered to sleep, the last sound he heard was the sweet, melodic crying of the violins…


End file.
